A Beginning of Hatred
by Videl86
Summary: A brief look into why Dolores Umbridge just doesn't like halfbreeds.


Title: A Beginning of Hatred

Author: Masakochan/Videl86

Rating: Eh..maybe between PG and PG-13

Word Count: 871

Disclaimer: Don't own HP. JKR does.

Summary: A brief look into why Dolores Umbridge just doesn't like half-breeds.

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Dolores Umbridge had never always had such a deep hatred for half-breeds. That is, she could remember if she wanted to; exactly when it began. But she won't ever recall the moment, because it has been almost permanently locked away in one of the areas of her mind. The area which causes little children, and older adults to cry out in their sleep at night.

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As a little girl, she been fairly pleasant looking. Slightly pudgy, with a higher voice than most, and eyes which held a close-to-bursting amount of happiness. The brightness in her eyes would dim slightly whenever someone else would make fun of her looks, but it always would return with full strength after she wrote a letter to her parents.

In each response, her parents would send her a small trinket, like a bow, and it would always be pink. She loved the color, pink. Along with the trinket would be the usual responses, like 'Don't listen to those people. They don't know what they're saying,' and 'We love you, Doll, and that's all that matters.' And that's all that did matter for her. As long as her parents were there, she knew that she was loved by someone.

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It happened when she was 13.

The moon has risen only just a couple of hours before, and was at its fullest. There was a light breeze, and the sounds of crickets chirping filled the air.

Dolores was humming to herself as she walked up the path to her house. She'd been playing with one of her few friends that day, a boy whose last name was Fudge, and she couldn't wait to get home and tell her parents about some of the games that she and Fudge had played together.

When she got up closer to her home, however, she noticed that something was amiss. All the lights that would normally be pouring through the windows in the fronts were out. As she got closer, she noticed that the front door was knocked ajar.

A surge of fear went through her when she finally reached the front of her house, and she saw the vicious looking scratch marks that covered the door.

Steeling herself, but still shaking slightly, Dolores pushed the door open as quietly as she could and slipped inside the darkened house. A horrible smell assaulted her senses, and she froze as she recognized it. Blood.

Oh no. No. NO. NO! Not here! Not them! PLEASE NOT THEM!

"M-M-Mummy? D-daddy?" She asked with fear laced in her voice. There was no response, except the creepy silence which seemed to press down on her even more.

Gritting her teeth, she silently crept out of the entrance hallway and into the kitchen.

She almost threw up when she saw what was in there. She would have, if her mind hadn't frozen in shock.

Her parents or what she could recognize... had been torn to shreds. And the murderer was standing on its haunches in the other entrance, staring straight at her with a bloodthirsty hunger in its eyes. A werewolf. She took a step backwards, and it took a step forward, licking off some of the blood that remained on the side of its snout. Her parent's blood.

The werewolf growled and took another step towards her, its eyes glowing in the darkness.

Dolores took another step backwards into the entrance hall. She was almost at the door, but in one brief moment she assumed that she wasn't going to make it much farther than where she was standing. She was going to be the next item on the werewolf's midnight snack list.

Before she realized it, she had pulled out her wand, and had pointed it at the creature. She could've sworn the werewolf had just snorted at her weak attempt to defend herself.

The werewolf sprang forward. Its mouth open, showing the rows of the gleaming, bloody fangs. Fangs that were about to tear her throat out, just as they had done to her parents. But something happened then.

It is known that werewolves are resistant to most magic spells. For whatever reason though, as soon as the werewolf had sprung into action, Dolores fired off one of the spells she'd heard an older student use one time in a practice duel.

"STUPEFY!"

The werewolf fell forward, frozen stiff with its mouth open. It glared up her, its eyes full of hunger.

Dolores couldn't believe what she had just done, but she turned around, and ran out through the entrance to her house as soon as she heard the werewolf growl, and it showed a tiny bit of movement. Going on pure adrenalin, she hoped she had enough time as she slammed the front door shut, and put one of the stronger locking charms, that she'd studied, on it.

Dolores then turned around and ran as fast as her legs could carry her over to Cornelius' house. There, she would cry over whom she had just lost. And following her grief would be a forever burning hatred for half-breeds.

A half-breed had taken her parents. A half-breed had taken those who loved her, and she would never be able to get them back.


End file.
